


Summer Days Drifting Away

by 7iris



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Offseason Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PK goes out to LA over the summer to train with Sid. Sid could get used to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Days Drifting Away

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from tumblr.

When Sid gets to the gym, PK is there, talking to Andy.  
  
Sid stops short and blinks.  
  
"Sid!" PK says. He comes over and pulls Sid into a handshake-hug combo. He’s grinning, and Sid smiles back automatically, helplessly.  
  
"Um. What are you—"  
  
PK shrugs. “I wanted to get away for a while this summer, hang out somewhere where people don’t even know what the Stanley Cup is.”  
  
And, well, Sid gets that. He just never thought it was something PK needed, though. “Okay,” he says.  
  
"Cool." PK slaps his shoulder. "C’mon, enough standing around like a lard-ass, let’s get this show on the road."  
  
Sid makes an outraged noise and trails after him to the weight room.  
  
*  
  
"So, what do you do for fun around here?" PK asks as they leave the gym.  
  
Sid squints dubiously at him. “Lunch?” he says.  
  
"Sounds good," PK says.  
  
The thing about PK that Sid always forgets until he sees him again is how, how _magnetic_ he is. Sid doesn’t warm up to people very fast, people who aren’t teammates, anyway, but PK is just easy to be around. Easy to talk to, easy to laugh with.  
  
And he doesn’t make fun of Sid for getting the quinoa salad instead of fries with lunch.  
  
They talk shit about guys they both know from Team Canada, and PK shows Sid pictures of his nephews on his phone.  
  
Sid has a good time.  
  
PK does the bro-hug thing again when they leave the restaurant. “See you tomorrow,” he says.  
  
Sid makes a noncommittal noise.  
  
*  
  
Sid kissed PK at the Olympics, after the gold medal game.    
  
It was a fast, hard, dirty kiss, both of them giddy with champagne and adrenaline. It didn’t really mean anything — Sid kissed a lot of people after that game, and he’s pretty sure PK did, too.  
  
Sid almost never thinks about it anymore.  
  
*  
  
The other thing Sid forgets about PK is how ripped he is.  
  
Andy has him doing farmer’s walks and sled drags with a truly ridiculous amount of weight. PK takes his shirt off halfway through, and Sid almost drops his water bottle.  
  
He’s used to staring at Geno’s lanky build in the locker room. PK’s body is completely different, all sleek, heavy muscle. Sid’s got his own workout to concentrate on, but he can’t help taking little sidelong glances at PK as he goes through his routine.  
  
He could get used to staring at PK’s body, too.  
  
*  
  
"Look, we can have more fun than lunch," PK says.  
  
"What do you want to do?" Sid asks cautiously.  
  
PK wants to try surfing lessons.  
  
They compromise on pick-up beach volleyball instead. It’s not Sid’s choice, but he’s not going to let those other guys win, so.  
  
He spikes PK’s set and PK whoops. He throws himself into Sid’s arms like they’re on the ice, both of them sweaty and sandy and laughing.  
  
Sid will admit that it is more fun than lunch.  
  
"See you tomorrow," PK says.  
  
"For sure," Sid says, and he actually is looking forward to it.  
  
*  
  
PK texts him and Nate to say he’s already got a table out back. When Sid gets to the restaurant a few minutes later, PK is looking at his phone, his mouth twisted down, bitter and unhappy.  
  
Sid hesitates, then says, “Don’t read your own press.”  
  
PK thumbs his phone off and looks up with a snort. “Easier said than done, man.”  
  
Sid shrugs. It’s still good advice.  
  
PK takes a deep breath and smiles. “So I hear the fish tacos here are amazing.”  
  
"Yeah, they’re pretty good," Sid says, and lets him change the subject.  
  
But when they’re finishing their beers and idly watching Nate fail at hitting on a hot blonde at the bar, PK says, “It’s just, I know it’s a stupid amount of money to be arguing over. I’ve already made more than my parents have made in their whole lives, so I should just—”  
  
He breaks off.  
  
Sid rolls his beer bottle between his palms. “It’s not like we do it for the money,” he says slowly. “We’d all play for free if we had to.”  
  
"Yeah," PK says, and his shoulders slump.  
  
"But that doesn’t mean I’d play for nothing if Giroux was still making five million a year."  
  
PK laughs, quick and surprised.  
  
Sid grins back. “A hometown discount is one thing, but they should pay you what you’re worth.”  
  
"Yeah," PK says again, easier. After a minute, he taps his bottle against Sid’s. "Thanks."  
  
*  
  
Sid’s renting a condo on the beach. He’s got a balcony with a grill, and PK talks him into grilling out there one night.  
  
PK brings the steaks, marinating in a Ziploc bag. “It’s my mom’s recipe,” he says.  
  
"You made that in your hotel room?" Sid asks as PK transfers them to a plate.  
  
"It’s a suite," he says loftily. "I have a kitchenette."  
  
"Oh, well, if you have a _kitchenette_ —”  
  
PK bumps his shoulder against Sid’s. “Here, you can do the actual grilling. I don’t want to insult your manhood or anything.”  
  
Sid rolls his eyes, but he takes the plate.  
  
The steaks are great. Sid opened a bottle of red wine without really thinking about it, but PK just nods and says, “Nice.”  
  
They talk about cooking during the season and Brooksie’s weird gluten thing and the food at the Olympic village. They finish the bottle of wine.  
  
After dinner, when they’re both sitting on the couch, PK gets his phone out to e-mail Sid the recipe for the marinade.  
  
"Oh, dude, you should totally see this," PK says. "Mom took the boys to the zoo yesterday."  
  
He leans into Sid so they can both watch the screen. It’s a video of Legacy reacting to some overly-friendly chickens at the petting zoo, and Sid’s giggling helplessly by the end.  
  
PK looks over at him, grinning, and Sid is suddenly conscious of how close they are, how warm and solid PK is against his side. His laughter cuts off. PK’s eyes drop to his mouth, and he licks his lips. PK looks back up, meets Sid’s eyes. Something breathless and tense hums between them.  
  
"Is this, can I—" PK says.  
  
"Yeah," Sid says quickly, "Yes."  
  
PK leans in and kisses him.  
  
Sid’s braced for it to be frantic, intense, like the last time, but PK’s mouth is almost gentle. Sid sighs into it, opens his mouth and kisses back.  
  
It’s slow, careful at first, figuring each other out, the way their mouths fit together.  
  
PK pulls back a little. He’s still smiling. Sid realizes he’s got one hand tangled in PK’s shirt.  
  
"Hey," PK says.  
  
"Hey," Sid says back, and tugs.  
  
PK laughs and climbs into Sid’s lap, his knees on either side of Sid’s hips. He settles his weight on Sid’s thighs, cups Sid’s jaw in his palms, and kisses him.  
  
It’s still slow, but more confident now. Sid feels warm all over, but the more they kiss, the more everything narrows down to just the feel of PK’s lips on his, the slide and drag of their tongues. His lips feel swollen, tingly, but when PK lifts his head, Sid makes a disgruntled noise, leaning up to follow his mouth.  
  
He settles for PK’s throat instead, sucking a bruise into his skin. He can feel the rapid flutter of PK’s heartbeat under his tongue. Sid grips PK’s waist, fingertips digging into his obliques, and PK gasps, squirms like he’s ticklish.  
  
"Ow," Sid says. His legs are starting to fall asleep under PK’s weight.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You’re heavy," Sid says.  
  
"All muscle, baby," PK says, and flexes one arm.  
  
Sid snorts. “I can tell,” he says, and he wants it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out rough, and his hands tighten on PK’s waist.  
  
PK ducks in and kisses him again, quick and soft. Then he kind of rolls sideways off of Sid’s lap, so he’s sprawled out on his back on the couch.  
  
"C’mon," PK says, and this time he’s the one pulling on Sid’s shirt.  
  
Sid lets himself be pulled, lets himself stretch out over PK’s body, so he can press their mouths together again.  
  
PK makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and wraps his arms around Sid’s shoulders.  
  
Sid feels like he could do this forever, mapping out the exact contours of PK’s mouth, finding all the little spots on his jaw and throat and behind his ear that make PK gasp and swear. So it’s almost a surprise to realize he’s hard.  
  
He rolls his hips down, and PK sucks in a sharp breath, going rigid under him.  
  
Sid lifts his head. “Sorry, we don’t, if you don’t want—”  
  
"No, shut up, I do want, get your dick out," PK says breathlessly.  
  
Sid laughs. They fumble with their flies, clumsy and uncoordinated. PK’s hard, too, and he wraps his hand around both of their cocks when they finally get them out.  
  
Sid groans and drops his head to kiss PK again. It feels amazing, PK’s mouth against his, pushing into PK’s tight, rough grip, rubbing against the soft skin of PK’s cock.  
  
"God, God, Sid," PK gasps out.  
  
Sid bites down on PK’s lip, and PK shudders all over and comes.  
  
"Oh," Sid says, and everything in his body pulls tight. "Fuck—"  
  
Orgasm rushes through him like champagne. He collapses on top of PK. He buries his face in the curve of PK’s throat, and PK pets his back weakly.  
  
After a while, Sid scrunches up his nose. “Shit, this couch is a rental.”  
  
PK starts giggling, and Sid lifts his head, just enough to kiss him, to lick the taste of laughter out of his mouth.  
  
*  
  
PK stays the night.  
  
They make out in the morning when the alarm goes off, long enough that they have to scramble to get to the gym on time.  
  
PK borrows a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from Sid, and they’re both tight on him. Sid has a hard time not staring.  
  
(Before PK starts his first set of clean and jerks, he takes his shirt off, wide-eyed and innocent. “Don’t want to rip it,” he says. Sid waits until Andy’s back is turned before he flips him off.)  
  
It’s a good routine to settle into. Wake up, make out, train, eat, nap, repeat, with bonus orgasms in the evening.  
  
PK ends up canceling the last ten days of his hotel reservation and staying at Sid’s place.  
  
"More efficient this way," PK says against Sid’s collarbone. Sid’s throat and chest tingle with beard burn.  
  
"Mmmm," Sid says vaguely. "Less talking, more kissing."  
  
"Exactly," PK says.  
  
PK steals a kiss at the gym when they’re making their post-workout smoothies, then slaps his ass on the way out.  
  
Sid is still smiling down at the blender when Andy comes in.  
  
"Hey," Andy says.  
  
Sid looks up. “What’s up?”  
  
Andy tips his head, studying Sid’s face. “Good to see you again,” he says finally.  
  
Sid gives him a questioning look.  
  
"You haven’t—" Andy waves his hand. "I dunno, you haven’t seemed like your usual self this summer. It’s good to see you smiling like that again in the gym."  
  
"Oh," Sid says. It’s true, training doesn’t feel like a chore anymore. It has purpose again, a goal he’s looking forward to.  
  
"It’s good," Andy says again. "But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to do the wind sprints."  
  
*  
  
PK goes back to Montreal before summer’s over.  
  
They make out on Sid’s sofa one last time, waiting for PK’s cab. It’s lazy and sweet, no urgency or purpose to it at all.  
  
Sid pulls back when PK’s phone buzzes.  
  
PK checks the screen. “I gotta go.” He grins at Sid. “See you on the ice.”  
  
Sid grins back. “For sure,” he says, and for the first time in a long time, the anticipation of October hums in his blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Anon is off for all my AO3 stuff, but still on at [my tumblr](http://7iris.tumblr.com/ask), if you've got something to say!


End file.
